


Live As We Dream

by aeternapancake



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Character Death, Coming of Age, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Loss, Platonic Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternapancake/pseuds/aeternapancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrys Winchester has lost much during the battle with Enclave. With Project Purity activated and the Enclave defeated, she must turn her attention to forging a better future for the Capital Wasteland -- one she may have to work even harder to achieve. The Lone Wanderer has hope and the means to make the wasteland better for all kinds of people, even a certain Brotherhood squire she can sympathize all too well with. But there are no laws of fate and hope can only get her so far.</p>
<p>An interim fic between the end of Fallout 3 and the start of Fallout 4 following the fall and rise of the Brotherhood of Steel and the Lone Wanderer's exile to the Commonwealth. Main focus on the relationship (platonic) between Chrys and Arthur as they both adjust to the changing wasteland and their place in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Steel

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as a challenge to myself to actually write a multi-chapter fic over the course of the summer. I'm new to this site so there may be some formatting issues and such. Will try to update weekly. Hope you enjoy ^_^  
>  **A/N: ******If spicy smut fic is what you are looking for, this is not the fic for you. Also there will be ABSOLUTELY NO adult/minor romantic/sexual relationships in this fic. Everything is strictly platonic between adult and underage characters.

The sounds of Brotherhood knights, paladins, and scribes milling about slowly died down as the dissonant patter of rain began to grow louder and louder and the sky became darker. The deluge wasn’t unwelcome as the people of the Capital Wasteland relied on it for crops and fresh water; although, now that Project Purity was functioning it was the more the merrier. That merriment didn’t quite spread to the confines of the Citadel’s walls. While there was some jubilation at the defeat of the Enclave at both the Jefferson Memorial and at Adams Air Force Base, many lives were lost in the battles. Many were still grieving the loss of their brethren in arms; others tried to look forward to the future with caution.

As the cacophony of the rain picked up, Chrys increased the volume on the tape player of her PipBoy. She felt stiff and numb from sitting out on the roof of the Citadel for hours and being drenched by the downpour. Her Vault suit was waterproof, but she still felt the weight and sting of the cold as the water hit her curled up body. Her knees were hugged to her chest with her head tucked in the crook of an elbow. Her PipBoy glowed with green light and the sound of her father’s voice filtered through the sound of the rain.

“ _I spoke with Doctor Li, Madison, at Rivet City. It went about as well as I expected. That is to say she thinks I’m completely mad.”_

Chrys sucked in a shaky breath. It had been a few months since her father had died and the Enclave revealed themselves as a considerable faction of power. Project Purity had been her parents’ dream, and her father died as a result of it. Neither her mother nor her father got to see the project come to completion – never saw their dream bear fruit. The Enclave was gone, but it did nothing to fill the emptiness in her. Stopping the Enclave didn’t bring her father back.

_“How can I blame her? She’s got her own life, her own team, and is making real tangible scientific progress. Here I come again, the very paragon of failure and false promises.”_

_You and me both, Dad._

She was the Lone Wanderer – the hero of the wastes; the tenacious teenager from Vault 101; a messiah of some blessed kind. But that was all according to some crazed, delusional disc jockey who happened to have access to a working broadcast station and satellite dish. Nothing heard on the radio was particularly true. At least, no one could look at her and say, “She’s a hero. She’s the Lone Wanderer.”

But what had she done? What had she lost?

The Brotherhood soldiers did most of the fighting, she just punched some buttons and so she was the hero.

Her father and mother built Project Purity, she just turned it on and so she was the hero.

Charon was the one to pull her and Sarah Lyons out of the memorial, but she survived the ordeal and so she was the hero.

She choked back a sob at the thought of Charon. Her grip on her suit, which had become loose on her wilting frame, tightened. She remembered deciding to go in the Purifier herself, she would make the ultimate sacrifice just like her father had. This was her job to do – just press some buttons and die. Charon had other plans. After she’d passed out, apparently he survived the aftershock that knocked Sarah out cold and managed to get both she and Sarah out. Only it was at the expense of the severe radiation exposure; enough exposure to put him in some sort of coma. Doctor Li did what she could, but in the end the hardware in Charon’s brain shut him down as a result of him turning feral from the radiation. The plug wasn’t pulled until Chrys gave the “okay”, and by “okay” that meant pulling the plug herself.

When her father died, it had been jarring and violent. Watching him suffer from behind a glass panel as he died from radiation sickness. Charon, however, died silently. There wasn’t a struggle, a word, or a sigh. Just a flat-line and he was gone. She wasn’t sure which situation was worse.

And so she ran, from the wing and from any and every one who tried to console and comfort her in her grief. She knew she wasn’t handling it well, and that the people who were worried about her deserved better than how she had been treating them for the past two days. Her frustration at herself only piled onto her self-depreciation and sense of failure. She’d promised to be strong, yet she was crying in the rain, clinging to whatever pieces she had left of the people she loved.

_“But the reality is, I need Madison and whatever scientific team she may have assembled. I can’t do this myself. Project Purity is bigger than me, it always was. And without Catherine… God, I can’t let this die. Not like this.”_

_Click._

She lost her mother, her father, and the man she loved in that memorial. _Will I ever be able to set foot in there again? No… no it’d hurt too much. Maybe that’s also why dad left it in the first place._

She’d been listening to this tape on repeat since she found her way up to this solitary part of the roof this morning. She’d kept the volume low when there were still people milling about in the courtyard below that could hear her. With the rain ushering them inside and drowning out most sound, she could listen in peace.

As much peace as an aching, lonely girl could muster.

_I’m twenty now… I’m not even a teenager anymore._

She moved to hit the play button on her PipBoy and wipe the raindrops from the screen to check the time. Only there were no droplets on the screen like there should have been. The rain hadn’t stopped, it was still falling heavy around her.

_What the…?_

She looked up, her neck popping as she saw nothing but dark blue fabric stretched over her curled up form. It didn’t reach far enough to stop the rain from hitting the toe of her shoes.

_What in the world? Wait a minute… blue._

“Arthur?” she asked.

The fabric shifted a bit. A youthful voice replied in kind. “Yeah?”

_Jesus Christ!_ Chrys scrambled out from under the fabric, a hard endeavor as her feet were numb and her legs stiff. She wobbled for a second to keep her balance and turned to see a ten-year-old boy standing behind where she’d been sitting. He held his oversized blue jacket out over his outstretched arms, making a sort of awning to shield her from the rain, but at his own expense.

“Arthur! Oh my god! What are you doing out here?” she asked. Panic raced through her as she saw the boy’s clothes were soaked. He could’ve been standing out there since the rain started and she didn’t even notice. How far gone was she? “You need to go back inside. You’ll catch a cold or hypothermia out here.”

The boy dropped his arms with a tired huff. “So will you.”

Chrys pursed her lips and knelt down to the boy’s height, holding her hand out for his coat. He looked at her hand for a moment before he put the wet coat in it. She sighed as she tried to wring the coat out. _What am I doing?_ She unfurled it after a few vain attempts and set it around his shoulders.

“My suit is waterproof. I’ll be fine up here. You’ll get sick, kiddo. Or you can slip and fall… or… _something_ ,” she said. Arthur didn’t seem to buy it.

“You shouldn’t be alone up here,” he said.

Chrys paused in adjusting the collar of his coat. She knew that, but she just pushed people away. She sighed and dropped her hands into her lap. “Listen, Arthur. You have to go back inside.”

Arthur stood there, the sad look on his face making her heart twinge. _He just wants to help. Like before._

A clap thunder proceeded a greater, more violent downpour. Chrys ushered Arthur to the hatch leading back into the Citadel, promising she’d go back inside. The two climbed down the ladder leading into a vacant hallway except for the lone dog waiting excitedly by the ladder.

Dogmeat barked happily to see Chrys and hopped playfully around her. She couldn’t help but laugh at the dog’s jubilation. Then Dogmeat turned on Arthur and all but tackled the boy to the ground as he licked Arthur’s face. Chrys knelt down and pulled Dogmeat off the defenseless child. “Come on, Dogmeat, we gotta get Arthur to his room before he freezes to death.”

“I’m not cold,” Arthur said as he sat up, punctuating the statement with a sneeze. “ACHOO!”

Chrys arched a brow and Dogmeat halted his fidgeting to sniff cautiously at the source of the noise. The three made their way through the Citadel, avoiding who they could until they reached Arthur’s small room. Chrys waited outside with Dogmeat until Arthur came back out. Chrys giggled when he stepped out still wearing the wet blue coat over new dry clothes. “Can’t keep wearing the coat, kiddo.”

Arthur looked down at the coat. “But I like wearing it.”

Chrys put a hand on her hip as she held out her other one. She made a “give me” motion with her fingers and Arthur groaned before handing her the coat. Chrys smiled, remembering she was always that way with her baseball cap. Her father would have to steal it in the middle of the night to get the stains out of it. She sighed as she followed the kid into his room.

He handed her a dry towel to use while Dogmeat got comfortable by the foot of the bed. Chrys hung the coat on the back of his chair and then sat on the edge of the bed as she rubbed her hair and face with the towel. She didn’t have her glasses on; over the past few days they’d gotten discarded somewhere during one of several particularly low points.

Arthur sat down beside her, squeaking with surprise when she started rubbing the towel on his head. “Hey!”

“Nice and dry, kiddo. Sarah will kill me if she figures out you caught a cold on my account.” Chrys pulled the towel away and then tousled his hair for good measure. Arthur laughed and fixed his hair after she stopped fussing over him.

“Were you going to keep listening to that tape?” he asked. Chrys hung the towel on the headboard of the bed and paused, her eyes flicking to her PipBoy. She turned to face him. He shied away a bit. “I’m sorry I overheard it. I didn’t mean to-,”

Chrys gave him a soft smile and sighed. “It’s okay, Arthur.” She looked back down at her PipBoy again. “ _I_ shouldn’t even be listening to it. It’s my dad’s.”

“He’s the one talking? He mentioned Doctor Li.”

Chrys nodded. “They were… friends, I guess.”

“Who’s Catherine?”

“My mother.” She ran a hand through her damp hair. “She died a long time ago.”

Arthur nodded, but didn’t say anything. She’d learned from her past few conversations with the lonely squire that both his parents were dead as well. It was a terrible thing to have in common, but she could sympathize with his loneliness.

“Why this tape? Is it the only one you have?”

Chrys hit the play button, letting her father’s desperate voice play in the small room.

_“Here I come again, the very paragon of failure and false promises.”_

She paused the tape. “I… guess I feel the same. All I’ve done and all I’ve supposedly accomplished and the two most important people in my life are dead. I couldn’t help them. I just… stood there and let them die.”

“That’s not true,” Arthur said.

Chrys sighed and rubbed her eyes. “You weren’t there.”

“But you’re not that kind of person.”

Chrys dropped her hand into her lap. Arthur grabbed her PipBoy, yanking it— and by tether her arm—towards him. He pushed a few buttons and the radio started playing. When “Civilization” stopped, Three Dog came on.

“THREE DOOOG!” Chrys winced a bit at the sound of Three Dog’s overzealous gusto. “Good news, children! You see those nasty cooks, the Enclave, ya know, the ones that have been terrorizing the Capital the past few months? Overrun Project Purity and all that bad stuff? Trying to stop good people from fightin’ the Good Fight? Weeeell I have on good authority that they’ve been deep-sixed for good. And by none other than the good people of the Brotherhood of Steel and the Wasteland’s very own messiah of the wastes, the Lone Wanderer. And now, kiddies, the Wasteland is free of those has-been extremists and the Brotherhood is set on protecting the Capital Wasteland. And get your jugs and bottles ready, ‘cause they’re bringing all that fresh, clean water with them.”

Chrys arched a brow at Arthur. He turned the radio off and let go of the PipBoy. “You’re a hero.” He looked away. “Maybe you don’t save everyone, but you’ve helped a lot of people.”

_But not the people I care about most._

He looked up at her. “They’d be proud of you. I know it. And they’d want you to be happy.” He gave her a little smile.

It was hard to be happy. There was a feeling of guilt that she’d survived the ordeal, and the sinking feeling of loneliness. She looked down at her PipBoy and hit the play button on the tape player.

_“I can’t do this myself. Project Purity is bigger than me, it always was. And without Catherine… God, I can’t let this die. Not like this.”_

_I am Alpha and Omega. The beginning… and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely._

_Click._

She’d done that. She’d activated the purifier. That was not the end. Only the beginning.

“Do you want a Nuka Cola? I can sneak some from the mess hall,” Arthur asked, hopping off the bed.

She looked down at the dim screen on her wrist for a few moments before lifting her head and offering a kind smile to the young boy. “That sounds nice.”


	2. Miles to Go

Funerals, or at least ceremonial ones, weren't commonplace in the wasteland. Back in the Vault most funerals were quick and simple: the Overseer said a few words and the departed’s next of kin said fewer words through tears. Then the body was cremated and the family could opt for an urn or not, provided they had a container. Everyone in the Vault dealt with the fact their numbers were dwindling. The loss permeated to everyone, whether or not they actually cared for or were related to the deceased. The reminder of the terminal nature of their situation was enough for anyone to grieve.

The Brotherhood handled funerals differently. When only one member was lost it was a funeral for said individual, but when it came to services after major battles they became en masse affairs not reserved for one person in particular. As such, Elder Lyons would speak to the masses, read off the names of those lost, and light a funeral pyre. Elsewhere the bodies would be cremated while their holotags were transferred to Scribe Jameson for the records. Unlike the Vault, everyone seemed to care about who was lost, not the fact that their numbers were shrinking with each pyre. Funerals were also known to be private-- for Brotherhood attendance only-- but for once there would be an outsider present.

Whether or not that made the more traditional members anxious or frustrated, Chrys really couldn't care less; she was there to honor her father's and Charon’s memories along with those she fought beside. Cross seemed to be the only one compassionate enough to honor a ghoul’s memory as well, or she was the only one crazy enough depending on who was asked. Either way, Chrys could appreciate the Paladin’s presence at her side through the ceremony. Loss and grief were not her easiest obstacles to overcome.

As Elder Lyons spoke to the crowd about duty, honor, and sacrifice for the good of humanity, Sarah stood not far from his side seeming almost out of place with her power armor traded for faded blue robes similar to her father’s. She looked no less noble and strong standing near her father. Sarah Lyons wasn’t one to let grief show, but Chrys knew the woman felt it dearly.

A pang in her chest made her lips draw in a pained frown as she tried not to think of all that had been sacrificed up to this point. This wasn’t the time to dwell on her mistakes and failures. Self-loathing and inaction would only be a dishonor to the fallen－ they deserved better than that. She took a deep breath, letting it out with a steady whoosh as she tried to calm her meandering thoughts.

When Elder Lyons started listing off some of the names of the fallen, she mentally wedged two names of her own in the list.

_James Winchester._

_Charon._ Or perhaps, Colin Gallagher.

No… Charon hated his old name.

A rustling to Chrys’ left drew her attention from the oration and she found herself looking at the solemn face of Scribe Rothchild. Other than the slight crack of his blasé facade where melancholy filtered through, he seemed tired as always. His eyes were glued on his long time friend and Elder, but she knew his mind was elsewhere when he clasped his hands behind his back and began whispering to her.

“Without you, we would have lost so much more to the Enclave,” he said.

Chrys turned her attention back to Lyons, her lips pulling into a slight smirk. “Why Rothchild, are you complimenting me?” Acknowledgements from the old man were rarer than a living, green tree. Even if it seemed blasphemous to egg him during a funeral, she had to admit she may not get another chance.

“I am. It’s the first and last time I ever will.” Chrys held back a laugh.

“Shouldn’t you be up there on _his_ left instead of _mine_?” she asked.

Rothchild huffed. “Funerals and sympathy aren’t my forte. Ceremonies such as this are better handled by Owen and Sarah. Besides it’s the only time I’ll be able to talk to you in private.”

“We’re surrounded by people and Cross is right there.” She nodded her head toward the woman; although she was fairly certain that, unlike herself and Rothchild, Cross was fully engrossed in the ceremony. She figured Rothchild knew that too. “And I’m trying to be respectful to the people we… you lost.”

Rothchild arched a brow. “I’m fully aware you’re here to honor the people _you’ve_ lost more so than the people _the Brotherhood_ lost. I can’t fault you for it. We’re a stubborn bunch and allowing an outsider to attend a funeral ceremony is probably causing our ancestors to roll in their graves. Accepting you as an ally has been rather difficult and there are some here who still doubt your capability and loyalty.”

“Are you one of them?”

He turned his head to narrow his eyes at her. “I will not fall for a compliment-fishing scheme, Winchester.”

_Darn, so close._

“I will, however, offer you a position in the Brotherhood.”

Elder Lyons’ speech went on, but everything seemed to drown out: the steadiness of Lyons’ voice, the tears of the deceased’s loved ones, the usual low creaking of the Citadel. A place in the Brotherhood wasn’t offered freely to Wastelanders: many recruits had to work strenuously and show a decent amount of skill before they would be taken on as Initiates. Lyons had already offered her the position of Knight before the assault on Adams, but she had declined. The last thing she wanted to be was a soldier. _Did Rothchild not know about that?_

“You know I already declined Lyons’ offer.” She turned her head towards Rothchild. “Don’t you?”

He nodded. “I do. Your talents would be wasted as a Knight or Paladin. I wanted you as a Scribe.”

_Ha! Compliment!_ “Me?”

“Yes.”

“As a scribe?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Rothchild stood there watching Lyons speak for a little while, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, steadily. “I have my reasons. In time I might tell you them.”

_Well you were right about that “We’re a stubborn bunch,” part, old man._ “And if I decline?”

He shrugged. “Then I won’t tell you.”

“Fair enough. Guess I’ll never know.” She turned her attention back to Elder Lyons. _Scribe Winchester… wonder what kind of woman she would have been._

_Not who I am, probably._

Rothchild nodded. “Very well. Secondly, may I ask to speak with you privately _after_ the ceremony?”

Chrys scrunched her brow. “I thought you said this was…,”

“I can only keep you and Squire Maxson apart for so long; so I’ve learned over the past week. I don’t need him eavesdropping.” Rothchild grumbled. “It was hard enough keeping him away from Liberty Prime. He’ll probably be looking for you once this is done.”

Chrys couldn’t help but chuckle, which earned her some irritated looks from nearby Knights and Scribes. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes. _Smooth._

“So it’s an important matter?” She asked.

“Very much so.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you at the lab.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

With a salute the ceremony ended and Chrys moved to make her way to the lab, but a metal arm caught her elbow and held her steady. Chrys turned to see Cross looking down at her, a calm look on her weathered face. Her thin lips curled slightly into a kind, yet somber, smile.

“It would’ve been an honor to call you sister,” Cross said. Chrys returned a smile and nodded.

“Cross, this-,”

“And I know your father would be proud of all that you’ve done, Chrysanthemum.”

Chrys felt the ever-present ache in her chest subside slightly as she dipped her towards the Paladin. “Thank you… that means a lot. All of it.” She set a hand on the metal-clad arm Cross held her with. “I’m sorry, but this… this isn’t the life for me.”

The woman nodded. “I understand. Know that the gate to the Citadel will always be open for you if I have anything to say about it.” Cross let go of her arm and saluted her before turning and making her way towards a group of Paladins. Chrys sighed as she watched Cross go; the Brotherhood would give her stability and purpose where she was currently lacking, but she needed to find her own way. At least that’s what she felt in her gut.

_Rothchild. Private meeting. Lab._

She hurried to the lab, knowing Rothchild would be halfway there by now thanks to the interruption, and that he departed just before the ceremony ended. She caught him at the stairs and walked, slowly, with him the rest of the way. A man his age could only walk so fast.

“Cross said it would’ve been an honor to have me as a sister,” she said. She hadn’t expected to feel dismayed about it. She knew why she declined, why she could never be a true part of the Brotherhood. Seeing the look in Cross’ eyes though made her wonder if she was making the right choice.

Rothchild hummed.

“No comment?”

“Nope.”

“You are the epitome of grace and politeness.”

“Yes well if you’re done with sarcastic, ludicrous statements, it’s time to discuss private matters.” He gestured to the smithy where Scribe Bowditch usually worked, but with the ceremony the room was currently unoccupied. The two of them entered and Rothchild shut the door before letting out a tense sigh. Chrys tried not to imagine what had the brazen and uptight Head Scribe so morose; it certainly wasn’t the funeral that just happened. Rothchild didn’t handle grief that way-- grief only made him work even harder at finding answers or solving problems. A quality she wished she possessed herself.

When he came away from the door to face her, he dropped the melancholy and a file on the center table. “There has been numerous complaints and concerns coming from Project Purity.” Chrys’ eyes widened. “Normally I would write the whole mess off as Bigsley being incompetent and annoying,but I sent a Knight-Captain out to check on the project. When he returned today, his report was much graver than I had presumed.”

Dozens of scenarios went through her head involving what could be wrong at the memorial: faulty systems, radiation leaks, Super Mutants, even possible Enclave remnants. There could be a combination of the two for all she knew. She shook her head. Worrying and speculation would only make it worse. “What'd the report say?”

“Dissent, spurred by the Rivet City Security, Bigsley, and the scientists led by Dr. Li,” Rothchild said. Dissent wasn't so bad… she hoped. “There's talk of Li leaving the purifier and Rivet City citizens don't yet trust us with total control over it. Same with her crew.”

_Li? Leaving? But why?_

“But you've had control over Purity for weeks now, why hasn't RCS voiced their concerns ‘til now?”

“Simply because they trusted Li, but they don't trust us.”

“So you need me to smooth things over?”

“I need you to take Li’s place if these reports that she is planning to leave are true.”

She would be in charge of the purifier. Not that she didn't want that responsibility－ it was her parents’ dream after all－ but she never thought Li would abandon the upkeep of it knowing it bore fruit. If she was fair with herself, she probably would be a better person for public relations compared to both Li and Bigsley. But _her_ in charge of the single greatest supply of fresh water to the entire Capital Wasteland, that was daunting.

“And if I convince her to stay?” she asked.

Rothchild shrugged. “Personally, I would advise against it. Li is capable, a Rivet City council member, and a founding member of Project Purity, but her lack of faith in us and her inaction to put this fire out herself makes her less than ideal. And while I have no doubt of your… charismatic charm, it will take an act of the creator to get her to change her mind if she is truly leaving.”

_Well my dad got her to change her mind… once he got a decent reason for her to help._ Chrys nodded. She wasn't her father, her relationship with Li had been on the decline ever since James died, but she was her father’s daughter. That had to count for something in Li’s eyes. Hopefully the relation made Li a little more receptive to her. The scientist had been sympathetic towards her when both James and Charon died, which given Li’s usual nature, was saying something.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose and back into place.

“Well see to it this doesn't escalate. We don't need water riots on our hands.” Rothchild tapped the file on the table with a finger. “I'll send the Knight-Captain I mentioned earlier along with you to give some added authority with the scribes stationed there. I suggest you read this before you go. Which, I might add, should be sooner rather than later.”

She grabbed the file, giving it a small shake. “Yes, mother.”

Rothchild scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I'm never offering you a position again.”

“Might be for the best. You know I hate breaking your heart, Rothchild.” She gave him a toothy grin, making him shake his head.

“File. Read. Go.” Rothchild turned and walked towards the exit. He clasped his hands behind his back, stopping in front of the door for a moment as if to study it instead of open it. With a shrug, he unclasped his hands and slapped one hard against the metal door at about waist level.

_BANG._

“Ow!”

Chrys wasn’t sure if the noise from the impact made her jump more, or the pained exclamation of a child on the other side did. Rothchild simply clicked his tongue and opened the door. Arthur stood on the other side rubbing his left ear, jumping when Rothchild looked down at him with, Chrys assumed, a pestered look.

“Eavesdropping, Squire?” Rothchild asked.

Arthur avoided eye contact with the old man. “N-No,” he said.

_Gonna have to teach that kid a thing or two about bullshitting._ Chrys smirked. “It's not eavesdropping if he didn't hear anything.”

Rothchild turned, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don't defend him.”

_At least I’m not trying to rupture his eardrum._ She shrugged. “Sorry Rothchild. Adorable ten-year-old takes precedent over crotchety, old man.” Rothchild groaned and rubbed his brow.

“File. Go.” Rothchild made his way out of the smithy, Arthur dodging past the old man and joining her in the room. She could hear grumbling from the lab of, “Where's the Med-X when you need it?” and, “Intrusive little gnat.”

Arthur looked up at her, his brow knit with worry. “Did I do something wrong?”

She pat him on the shoulder and shook her head. “Nah, kiddo, that's just Rothchild for you. Though if you're gonna eavesdrop, make sure you have a good cover-up if you get caught.”

Arthur nodded. “I didn't think he'd know I was there. I was quiet.”

“Rothchild’s a perceptive old coot. Don't let his age fool you,” she said, kneeling down to Arthur’s height. “So why were you snooping around?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his feet. “I wasn't snooping… I was… inspecting doors. You know… Squire duties… doors are important and we gotta make sure they… work.” Chrys arched a brow.

“Nice try, kiddo, but not good enough.”

Arthur huffed. His hands dropped to his sides and his gaze flicked to the file in her hands. The sadness evident on his face when he looked her in the eye. “You’re leaving?”

She drummed her fingers against the file and nodded. “Something at the memorial came up. I have to fix it before it gets worse.”

His eyes widened. “Can I come?” The hopeful look on his face disappeared as she shook her head.

“Maybe when you're older, kiddo, but not this time,” she said.

“I can fight.” He offered.

_That’s what worries me._ It was unsettling knowing that Sarah was already training the young boy how to shoot a laser rifle and how to kill people. She remembered being his age and getting her first menial duties in the Vault. Even then she got a birthday party at least: a day of fun before she had to become an adult… somewhat. She was fairly certain Brotherhood Squires were provided no such luxury.

“There’s a lot more to fighting than being able to shoot a gun.” At least that’s what Charon told her and she had no reason not to believe it.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his right arm and looking downcast at his feet. Something else was bothering him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chrys asked.

“Rothchild offered you a position as a scribe?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And you declined?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why? You don't like it here?”

She felt a twinge of pain. With a sigh, she set the file down on the floor before she rubbed the back of her neck. “It's not… it's not that. At all. The life I'd live here just isn't the one I want to live and it’s probably not the best one for me.”

Arthur tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?”

“It's complicated. Something you probably won't understand ‘til you're older.”

“But you like tech. You'd be like Scribe Bowditch or Scribe Ingram. They just fix stuff all day. You like doing that.” He drummed a finger against his chin. “Or maybe you'd be like Jameson or Quinlan. They read books all the time, well Quinlan actually reads comics more than books. But that's fun.” Chrys couldn't help but smile at his persistence. “Peabody will let you blow stuff up. Oh! You and Rothchild could build another robot!”

She lightly poked him in the gut, which made him yip and step away. “It would be fun, but I'm just not good with rules and regulations. I like it here, don't get me wrong, I'd love to do all of that. But I'm needed elsewhere and there's things I need to figure out on my own.” She smiled softly at him. “Understand, Arthur?”

He frowned; the sad, discouraged look returning.

“Doesn't mean I'm leaving for good. I'll be back,” she said, hoping that would give the boy some assurance.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Arthur smiled. “Okay.”

An idea dawned on her. “Hey, there's something I need help with. You up to it?”

He straightened up, eyes widening with anticipation.”What is it?”

“Follow me.”  She stood up, file in hand, and made her way out of the smithy. Arthur followed beside her, doing his best to stay silent. He lasted a minute before he started asking any little question that came to his mind in an attempt to guess at what it was.

“Is it dangerous?”; “Does it involve the purifier?”; “Is it the airship?”

She paused, giving him a perplexed look. “Airship?”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, then drew it away slowly. “Uh, I mean… bishop.” She decided it would be best to let it slide. They made their way to her stay room in the A ring, the people passing them in the hallway saluting them as they passed by. Arthur didn't seem to appreciate it much when some of the Knights called him “sir”. _Poor kid. Not even a teenager and already got generations of expectations to live up to._ She tousled his hair for good measure, making him yip. He gave her an annoyed look, but it quickly broke into a giggle. He’d gotten used to the gesture over the past week.

When she opened the door to her room, Dogmeat rushed out to welcome them both, or at least Arthur. Locking the dog up in the room for the afternoon during the funeral wasn’t the best way to stay on his good side, and so he decisively paid more attention to the one not responsible for his confinement. _Traitor._ Chrys let Dogmeat lick the boy clean and made her way over to where her canvas pack sat on the floor. She fished through it until she reached the cloth-wrapped bundle at the bottom. She traded the bundle for the file and undid the cloth to reveal three Pre-War books in near perfect condition. Months ago Scribe Yearling had recruited her to bring any source of Pre-War literature, for which she would be compensated nicely, to her at Arlington Library. These books were mostly novels, except one that was a poetry collection, but nothing really technical. She figured Yearling wouldn’t miss them.

“Where’d you get those?” Arthur asked, amazed. He sat down beside her, looking curiously, and excitedly, at the cover of the top book. His elation died, eyes narrowing. “Wait, those are for Scribe Yearling aren’t they?”

Chrys smiled, bobbing her eyebrows. “What Yearling doesn’t know won’t kill her.” She handed him the books and his face lit up. “Just keep them safe.”

“I will!” He took the stack and immediately started flipping through one of them. She chuckled and closed her bag. While she enjoyed reading books herself, she had many stored back at her home in Megaton she’d also kept out of Scribe Yearling’s knowledge. Now with the wasteland not going up in figurative flames around her, she might find time to read them.

Suddenly, she felt two small arms wrap around her shoulders. Arthur’s cheek pressed firmly against her upper arm. “Thanks, Chrys!”

She smiled, hugging him in return. “No problem, kiddo. Tell me all about them when I get back, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Traversing the Wasteland without a menacing, imposing ghoul and loved one at her side was still something she had to get used to. Sarah offered to escort her, but Chrys refused; the Sentinel had much more important matters to attend to than chaperoning a wastelander. And while she would appreciate the company, there was the hard truth that she wasn’t sure how comfortable she would be traveling with someone who wasn’t Charon. She could stand any prolonged silence with Charon without getting nervous, slipping into conversation with him wasn’t hard, and the comfort she felt with him wasn’t something that could come from anyone. At times she could reach out and he’d take her hand in his as they kept walking; he’d flash an assuring smile or something a little more on the smarmy side.

_“Holding hands with a ghoul? Riding on the wild side today,” he said. She squeezed his hand and laughed._

_“Don’t tell me sleeping with you is less scandalous than holding hands with you in public,” she said._

_“You never know. First it’s sex, then public displays of affection, then a combination of the two. Escalation at its finest,” he teased._

_She felt her cheeks turn red and she pulled down the front of her cap to cover her face. She stifled a laugh, though she couldn’t deny that the idea of an intimate moment with Charon while the danger of being caught loomed over their shoulders was lasciviously tempting._

She shook her head, fighting the slight blush on her cheeks. She could at least say she wasn’t entirely alone, she had Dogmeat with her, but when traveling with a significant other had become commonplace, going without felt empty. It wouldn’t be an easy space to fill and part of her didn’t want to do that. As ludicrous as that sounded. The company would, however, keep her thoughts from dwelling on Charon. It’d been almost two weeks since his death, but the pain was still there. She’d promised to help him, to free him from his contract. Now that promise was meaningless and empty. Broken. _“It’s not your fault.”_

It wasn’t until Dogmeat barked with excitement that she realized the memorial was coming into view, muted by the orange sky above it. She was lucky that Rivet City and Project Purity were less than a day’s travel to and from the Citadel. With the increased Brotherhood presence, much of the Super Mutant encampments that dotted the way had been expunged, making the trek considerably easier on both the body and people’s nerves now that there were less mutants. The people of Rivet City certainly appreciated it. Or so Harkness told her.

As inclined as she was to head toward the carrier and give Butch and Harkness the news －both good and bad－, Project Purity was more important. She stepped up towards the door of the gift shop, pausing to take a deep breath. This would be her first time setting foot in the memorial since she turned it on. She took a few more deep breaths, readying herself to open the door when Dogmeat barked. Chrys turned to see a lone person in power armor making their way over to her.

They saluted her. “Ma’am.” It was a man.

“Are you the Knight-Captain?” she asked.

“That I am,” he said. She pictured a charming smile under that helmet; this man was different from the usual Knights in the Brotherhood she’d encountered. Although that was quite a bit to assume based on hearing only two sentences from the man. Then again, his report had been quite comical in connotation. Which was fine by her. She didn’t need anyone overly grave and serious. “Knight-Cap-,”

_BANG!_

Chrys jumped back away from the door as an irritated Doctor Li stood in the doorway, hand on the door. Her heated demeanor dissipated at the sight of Chrys, dropping her anger and her hand from the door. “Chrysanthemum… I didn’t realize you would be by.”

Chrys looked her up and down. She wore a jumpsuit as opposed to her usual clothes under her lab coat, the legs mismatched with various pieces of leather armor. Her coat covered up whether she wore any armor on her chest or arms. Li never wore armor. _She is leaving._

Chrys offered an uneasy smile. Li was possibly one of the only people she couldn’t deal with easily, although she didn’t hate the woman. Awkward was the defining word of their relationship. “I was told there were problems. Rothchild hoped I could do something about it.”

Li narrowed her eyes, gaze flicking to the Knight-Captain standing behind Chrys and then back to her. She sighed and rubbed her brow. “This doesn’t-,”

The Knight-Captain interjected. “With all due respect ma’am, this probably concerns her.” He made a gesture to the memorial. “Parents’ project and all.”

Chrys turned, nodding to the Knight-Captain. “Why thank you.” His helmet bobbed slightly.

“Listen here, tin can.” Li marched out of the doorway and up to the Knight-Captain. “ _Nothing_ , and I repeat, _nothing_ here concerns you or the rest of your Brotherhood friends. We needed your help with the Enclave, but that wasn’t an invitation to occupy this place just as well.” Li shoved a finger against the chest plate of the Knight-Captain’s armor. “You can go tell that to Lyons or Rothchild, I don’t care, but I will not stand for this. Now _leave_ so I can talk to Chrysanthemum _in private_.”

The Knight-Captain said nothing, but Chrys gave him a thumbs up and he turned and walked away. “Let me know when you’re done,” he said as he strode off toward the scaffolding surrounding the memorial.

Chrys sighed and turned her attention back to Doctor Li. “Care to explain what that was all about?”

Li glared at her. “You think this is some game? The Brotherhood is taking control of your parents’ legacy and you’re just brushing it off?”

“That’s not-,”

“Free water. For everyone. That was the plan. The Brotherhood plans to charge for it. Were you aware?” Chrys skipped a breath.

_Rothchild certainly didn’t mention that._ “No. I wasn’t.”

“You would know if you were _here_. Instead of lounging around with them at the Citadel.”

Chrys curled her hands into fist. _Lounging? I was grieving! They were more help to me than you were in that department!_ Li seemed to notice her aggravation and took a deep breath. She ran a hand over her tightly bound hair. Chrys could see her trembling.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that,” Li said. She shoved her hand into the pockets of her lab coat and paced back and forth a few times before stopping. “There is so much at stake here and the more the Brotherhood gets involved, the more uncertainty builds up.”

“Do you honestly think Owyn would charge for the water?” Chrys asked.

Li shook her head, slowly. “No… but someone else might.”

“Owyn’s the Elder. It’s his word, his law. And they aren’t going to let someone else get ahold of the purifier.”

Li looked at her, arching a brow in an almost daring fashion. “And when Owyn _isn’t_ Elder?”

She tried not to think about that. “Sarah will take over.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Of course.” _The little ten-year-old that sneaks into the Elder’s room and reads his personal logs told me so._

“Sarah isn’t her father.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “She’s getting better at accepting people outside the Brotherhood. She’s far from traditional and she will help. I know it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “She won’t charge.” _I hope._

“I’m not convinced. This wasn’t meant to be a momentary alleviation, it’s supposed to be available to everyone with no compensation necessary. What’s stopping the Brotherhood from charging in the future? Two or three people? That’s not assuring enough for me, Chrysanthemum. And it shouldn’t be for you.”

The way Li put it, she could sympathize with her doubts. Chrys didn’t want anyone ruining Purity, not while she still drew breath. But what could she do against the Brotherhood if they did go against the wishes of her parents and the Lyons and started charging for the water? _Fight. Blow stuff up. That’s what I did before._ But fighting the Brotherhood was a whole other ballpark. She had a connection and allegiance with them, unlike the vendetta she had with the Enclave.

“So what are you going to do?” Chrys asked, gesturing to the armor visible on Li’s jumpsuit. “Doesn’t look like you’re getting ready for bed, here.”

“I’m not.” Li turned and walked away, following the perimeter of the memorial. She said nothing, but Chrys got the impression to follow her. They made their way towards the shoreline where Rivet City rested to their left and the Citadel loomed way off in the distance to their right. Li looked out across the Potomac, her eyes drooping in sadness. “I saw the Enclave take this place over. Thanks to you I lived through it.” Li pulled one of her hands out of her pockets and held up a strange pendant emblazoned with the Brotherhood of Steel symbol. “You didn’t know the Brotherhood twenty years ago. There were many amongst Lyons’ ranks that were traditionalists and they broke away when they felt Lyons was leading them astray.”

“The Outcasts.”

Li nodded. She stared, sadly, at the pendant. “You don’t need to change much about the Brotherhood before they become no better than the Enclave. Owyn’s goal is nowhere close to the true goal of the Brotherhood, and I will not stand here and watch the Brotherhood crumble and drag Purity down with it. Even if it means I have to give up my position here.”

“You’re leaving.”

Li tucked the pendant away back in her pocket and nodded. “I am.”

“What good does you leaving do?”

“I can’t stay here. For my safety and sanity, I have to go.” Li paused. “I will not become an agent of the Brotherhood, no matter how good their intentions are now. Lyons’ goal to help the people of the Capital will die with him. There’s no guarantee anyone will carry that torch or let it die. If I leave now, perhaps I’ll have the chance to remedy things in the future.”

Chrys sighed. “I… understand.”

Li peered at her, lips curled into a slight smile. “I know if I leave now, Purity will be in good hands if I put you in charge. You’ve done the impossible, Chrysanthemum, and if anyone can keep some semblance of peace here, it’s probably you.”

_People have way too much faith in me._ “You honestly want to leave _me_ in charge?”

“You _are_ James and Catherine’s daughter,” Li said.

“I guess this isn’t the best time to mention the Brotherhood offered me membership multiple times?”

“Well you aren’t wearing their uniform.” Li smirked. “So I’ll assume you declined multiple times.” Chrys nodded, offering an assuring smile. Li seemed to ease up at that, turning her attention back to the river.

“‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep; But I have promises to keep; And miles to go before I sleep,’” Li said.

“Frost.”

Li seemed impressed, although only slightly. “Never knew you were a fan.”

“I found a book of his poems.”

“Carry it with you?”

“Not anymore,” Chrys said, thinking about the bundle of books she pulled out of her pack earlier that day. “It’s in good hands though."

Li nodded, slowly. “I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this was definitely late -- forgot to factor in that I started summer school two days after I posted the first chapter. Hopefully updates will be more consistent from here on. Also chapters will be about this length from here on out. I want to get through these slow beginning chapters ASAP
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and shout-out to the people who left kudos (thank you so much!). Let me know if you spot any errors/problems ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 Comments always welcome!  
> No beta. Sorry for any typos/errors - please let me know if you catch any ^_^


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